


Betrayal

by BreakfastTea



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, assassination attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 01:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14070024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakfastTea/pseuds/BreakfastTea
Summary: Noct was supposed to be at the finish line, cheering Prompto on as he completed his first half-marathon. Instead, he's fighting for his life when he's betrayed by one of his father's most trusted men.





	Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Fanfic Friday! Today's fic was requested by ally55posts-blog... but I don't want to post the prompt here because it'd be super spoilery! It's a great prompt, and produced the longest fic by far. I really hope you enjoy it ^_^

The bell rang, signalling the end of the school day and the school week. Noctis packed his bag and went to find Prompto. They had to finalise plans for the half-marathon Prompto would be taking part in at the weekend. Noctis was determined to be in the crowds to cheer his friend on, no matter what. He knew there was no hiding the truth of his plan from Ignis and therefore Gladio, but he was really hoping the entire Crownsguard didn’t discover his weekend plans. He didn’t want to turn around and see someone attempting to blend into the crowds with a hand pressed to their ear while they whispered into their hidden radio.

Worse, still, would be if Dad sent the Kingsglaive to keep an eye on the marathon. Aside from the fact that Noctis would be perfectly safe in his own city, he knew the Kingsglaive had far more important jobs to do than keep an eye on him. His weekend was utterly insignificant compared to their real roles fighting for Lucis.

Besides, it was about Prompto. Not him. If everyone knew he was in the crowd, the press wouldn’t let it go. That wouldn’t be fair to Prompto or any of the other runners.

Shaking off his thoughts, Noctis looked up and saw Prompto coming out of his classroom further down the hall. Noctis slid through the crowd, reaching his friend’s side. He poked Prompto’s shoulder.

“Hey, what – oh, hi, Noct! We’re finally free! Weekend here I come!”

“Hey. Just wanted to check in with you about Sunday.”

“You really don’t need to meet me at the start line,” Prompto said. “I’ve gotta be there for seven AM, and I know that’s way too early for you so – ”

“I’ll be there,” Noctis said.

Prompto smiled. “Thanks!”

Noctis smiled back.

“Don’t expect me to win or anything. I’m just aiming for a personal best. There’s this guy, Michael someone, and he’s – ow!”

Noctis smacked his friend upside the head. “Know that I will feel the crushing burden of my own laziness as I watch you racing through the streets of Insomnia.”

“Laziness?” Prompto stared at him. “Don’t you have a training day at the Citadel tomorrow?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Noctis said. “Gladio’s practically shitting rainbows with glee.”

Prompto burst out into such loud laughter, other students stopped and stared at them. “He’s _what_?”

“He’s even got Drautos in on it, and he’s the head of the Kingsglaive. Something about helping me to perfect warping or whatever.”

“Warping?” Prompto asked blankly.

Wishing he could run a half marathon instead of train with Gladio and the captain of the Kingsglaive, Noctis shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, message me if you want anything. And don’t worry, I will be there on Sunday.”

“Thanks, Noct.”

* * *

The following day was one of the most intense workouts of Noctis’ life. Gladio drilled him with every weapon he’d ever used, and Drautos helped him with the warping. Noctis’ old back injury made it hard, his body never wanting to move the way the Kingsglaive did when they warped. Thanks to Gladio, Noctis had developed a style of combat that didn’t cause his back any extra problems, but with warping, it was proving trickier. He could warp, but not very far and not always reliably.

Drautos was there to make sure Noctis left the Citadel that day ready to warp at will. He barked orders, corrected Noctis’ form, and eventually, through a lot of sweat and pain, found a way to make Noctis’ warp every time he tried.

“Nice work,” Drautos said.

Too tired to use words, Noctis merely nodded.

“Your combat skills are impressive. There’s room for improvement, but you’d put up a good fight if you were attacked.” He looked at Gladio. “You’ve done well with him.”

Gladio stood straight and nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“I’ll leave you two to finish up for the day,” Drautos said. “I’ll check in on you both tomorrow.”

“Actually, we won’t be here tomorrow,” Gladio said.

“Oh?” Drautos asked. He looked at Noctis, his expression unimpressed. “You’d shirk your duties?”

Noctis dragged himself to his feet. “My friend’s running in the half marathon,” he said, forcing himself to meet Drautos’ unamused glare. “I’m going to watch him. He’s worked hard for it. He deserves support.”

Drautos didn’t look impressed. Noctis didn’t care. “You’ll have adequate supervision?” he asked.

Noctis nodded to Gladio. “Of course.”

“Good.” And with that, Drautos took his leave.

Noctis breathed out. He glanced at Gladio and saw even he looked frazzled.

“And I thought Cor had a stick up his ass,” Noctis muttered

* * *

The following day, Noctis awoke to the sound of his alarm blaring at him from the other side of his bedroom. The only way to turn it off was to get out of bed and cross the room. Body stiff and aching, the aftereffect of so much warping still lingering in his stomach, Noctis forced himself up and out of bed. Shuffling across his room, eyes barely open enough to see by, he grabbed his alarm and turned it off. He staggered into the kitchen and managed to turn on the coffee maker. He dropped bread into the toaster, and a few minutes later he had a basic breakfast. Ten minutes after that, he was dressed and heading out to the half-marathon’s start line. He slid his hood over his head, hoping that would keep him from being identified.

All before six thirty AM. That had to be a personal best.

He couldn’t deny how peaceful the city was so early in the day. The sidewalks were empty, and only a few cars and delivery vans drove by. He breathed deep, the scent of spring in the air. He had to enjoy these few moments alone. Gladio and Ignis would be meeting him at the start line too. Which was great, because Prompto needed all the support he could get…

…but sometimes Noctis just really wanted to know what it was like to walk around Insomnia, alone, with no one else following him/escorting him/guarding him/whatever.

He reached the marathon’s start line twenty minutes later. The city’s park was full of people, some dressed to run, others ready to cheer the runners on. He found Prompto standing by the café, ready to run. His friend saw him and waved. “Noct! You’re actually awake. And kinda early. Wow!”

Noctis reached Prompto’s side. “I said I’d be here.”

Prompto nodded happily. “Thanks. I know mornings really aren’t your thing.”

“Eh, I’m sure Ignis would say getting up early is beneficial to my self-development or something.”

“I just can’t believe they let you come all the way out here on your own,” Prompto said.

“They’ll both be here soon enough.”

And five minutes later, Ignis and Gladio did arrive. Gladio took Prompto’s backpack, swinging it over his own shoulders. “Better that we look after it, right?”

“Thanks,” Prompto said.

A loud speaker announced that all the racers should gather at the starting line. Prompto looked nervous, but he held himself tall. “Okay, see you at the finish line.”

“Good luck,” Ignis said. “I’m certain you’ll achieve a personal best.”

“Yeah, you got this,” Noctis said.

Prompto nodded and headed off.

“Shall we find a place to watch him start?” Ignis asked.

Gladio looked at him. “You mean you don’t have a place reserved for us in the VIP spot?”

“I would have, but Noct was insistent about blending in today.”

Noctis shrugged. “It’s Prompto’s day.”

“Fair enough,” Gladio said.

They walked through the crowds. A few people stopped and stared, but most were familiar enough with the sight of Prince Noctis that they didn’t even bother to look. Plus the hood was keeping him at least slightly disguised… from a distance anyway.

Gladio nudged Noctis. “How you feeling after yesterday’s training?”

Noctis rolled his shoulders. “Sore.”

“You did really well with warping,” Gladio said. “You’re developing consistency. And I think we’ve found a way around your back problem.”

“Drautos did,” Noctis said. “That guy doesn’t take no for an answer.”

“Which is precisely why your father made him captain of the Kingsglaive,” Ignis said. “It pays to have someone so relentless.”

Moving through the park, they found a good spot to watch the race kick off where the road led back into the city’s skyscraper-lined streets. The finish line was at the Citadel, where the winners could pick up their medals. Noctis remembered watching the winners with his dad from one of the balconies, but he doubted his dad would find the time to watch today. Things hadn’t been going well in the war lately.

Noctis laughed at himself. Who was he kidding? Things were never going well in the war.

“Can you see Prompto?” Ignis asked Gladio.

“Yeah, he’s there. Middle of the pack.”

“Does he look okay?” Noctis asked.

“He looks focused,” Gladio said.

Noctis nodded. He knew that Prompto took running very seriously. And he wanted his friend to succeed today.

Something distracted Noctis suddenly. A strange feeling. Like magic but…distant. Not coming from him. Not his dad, either. Dad’s magic had a distinct feel to it, as familiar as his voice. This was different. Noctis frowned and looked around, expecting to see one of the Kingsglaive appearing at his side. That was the strange thing about magic training. The stronger his connection to the crystal, the more he could feel people drawing on its magic when they were nearby. It made watching the Kingsglaive train a bizarre experience that left him feeling like his bones were itching on the inside. His father told him eventually he’d grow so used to it he wouldn’t notice, but right now everything was new to him and others using the Crystal’s magic grabbed his attention.

Which was why he could sense magic nearby. And that didn’t make any sense, because no one _needed_ to use magic here.

The starting gun fired. The runners surged forwards. Noctis turned back in time to watch Prompto go jogging by. He admired his friend’s dedication. No way could Noctis find it in him to run a marathon, not even a half-marathon. However, watching the runners go by didn’t distract him from the magic still flickering nearby. Chances were Kingsglaive hid among the crowd. Noctis figured Drautos had probably told his dad, which meant extra guards would be here.

“Noct?”

He looked over, realising Ignis must’ve been calling his name for a while. “Yeah?”

“Perhaps we should move further down the route. I’ve checked the map and there are a few places we should be able to catch Prompto.”

Noctis nodded. “Okay.”

The sensation, to his dismay, followed.

“Something wrong?” Gladio asked.

“Do you think Dad sent any Glaives here today?”

“Dunno. Why?”

Noctis shook his head. Maybe his body was still getting over all of yesterday’s training. And even if he wasn’t, there was nothing to worry about. “Just wondering.”

“Nothing to worry about if they did,” Ignis said. “Your father understands the need for security.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Noctis said.

“What’s bothering you so much?” Gladio asked.

“You’re here, so why does Dad need to send the Kingsglaive? It’s a waste. They’re needed elsewhere.”

“Nice to know you trust me,” Gladio said. “But you can’t blame your dad for being cautious.”

“It’s a waste of resources,” Noctis mumbled, an accusation the press frequently levelled at his dad.

They carried on, moving through the cheering crowds. The sensation pestered Noctis, dragging his attention to the buildings. What if he could warp to the top of one, maybe get a view of the streets below? That way, not only would be able to get a great view of the race, he’d be able to spot his dad’s not particularly well-hidden Glaives…

He concentrated hard, reaching into the Armiger and focusing on one of the daggers he kept there. He gripped it with his mind, and _pulled_ , summoning it into reality.

“Noct! What are you doing?” Ignis demanded.

Noctis grinned. “Thought I’d get a view from above.”

“Absolutely not!” Ignis said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Gladio said. “He trained a lot yesterday. Some real world training with warping will do him some good.”

“Thanks, Gladio,” Noctis said. Good to know someone believed in him.

“Fine,” Ignis said. “But perhaps don’t warp in full view of all these people?”

“Oh. Right.”

They left the marathon’s route and ducked into an alleyway. Noctis found a good spot and aimed at the roof.

“Five minutes,” Ignis said. “We need to keep up with Prompto.”

“Got it.” Noctis launched the dagger and warped. A moment later, he found himself on the building’s roof. He grinned, proud of his achievement. At last, warping came naturally.

He looked over the edge of the building and waved down to his friends. Then, he dashed to the other side to look down at the race. He scanned the people below, trying to recognise his father’s Kingsglaives. Noctis didn’t know every single one of them, but he’d trained with them enough to recognise the way they carried themselves. Glaives had a constant wariness, always ready to launch into action.

No one below looked like that.

And yet that sensation, the presence of nearby magic, didn’t fade.

“Where are you?” Noctis murmured.

The sensation shifted. Suddenly, it was behind him. Noctis spun around.

Someone stood behind him on the roof.

Someone dressed head to toe in black.

Someone with a dagger in their hand.

Kingsglaive, Noctis realised.

“Oh,” he said, wincing as his voice wobbled. The shock of seeing someone on the roof with him hadn’t worn off yet. “I guess Dad sent you to monitor the marathon after all. Is there a problem?”

The Glaive didn’t speak.

Noctis sighed. “Fine. I’m going back,” he said. “My friends are –”

The man threw his dagger.

Noctis didn’t think. He dodged. The dagger buried itself in the roof behind him.

The Glaive warped, reappearing behind Noctis.

“What are you doing?” Noctis cried out, hands, and dagger, held up.

Still, the Glaive didn’t speak.

He attacked.

Noctis gripped his own dagger, parrying the attack. The shock of the blow travelled up his arms, but he held his attacker off. He lashed out with an attack of his own, his blade swinging in an uppercut, but the Glaive dodged, warping around him again. He threw a fistful of Thunder at Noctis, but Noctis held out his hand and pulled it into himself.

The Glaive staggered back, surprise written into his slack limbs. “How?”

Refusing to answer, Noctis reached into the Armiger for one of his magic flasks. He needed to take this guy out, fast. The Glaive recovered from his shock and attacked with his blade once again. Noctis dodged swing after swing. He slashed out with his own attack, forcing the Glaive to leap back. That gave Noctis the time to pull the flask out of the Armiger. It was a powerful Firaga spell, blended with broken clock parts to add Stop to the magic. Noctis hesitated. If he missed, if it went over the edge of the roof and hit the crowd below…

The attacker didn’t hesitate. His blade sang through the air, aimed at Noctis’ heart.

Sending the flask back into the Armiger, Noctis barely defended himself in time. His attacker hit him with a warp strike. Had he not attempted to block, Noctis would’ve taken the blade to the heart and died in seconds. Instead, he managed to deflect it, changing its trajectory. It hit him in the shoulder, the metal blade lodged in his bone. The loud crunch of bone filled the air. Noctis cried out, vision sparking as pain bolted through his body.

He swung his own dagger, tearing his flesh on the blade jammed into him. He didn’t care. He had to fight. Well-trained instinct kicked in.

He would not die here.

The dagger scored a hit, tearing through the Glaive’s uniform and ripping a deep gouge in his flesh. Blood spattered his hand, but Noctis didn’t stop. He punched out, this time going for the hidden face. He made contact, but then the Glaive finally fought back, catching his fist and wrenching his arm behind his back. He grabbed Noctis’ dagger, tossing it aside. The man swore, his voice harsh. Recognition flashed through Noctis’ mind, but he couldn’t grasp an identity fast enough.

“You have to die,” the Glaive hissed. “It’s the only way the war ends.”

“What?” Noctis gasped. He battled to free himself, but the pain of the knife in his shoulder disabled him.

His attacker forced him to the edge of the roof, back to the side of the building where Noctis had warped up from. He became aware of something buzzing in his pocket. His phone. Probably Ignis, calling to demand he return to the ground.

“It ends today,” the Glaive said. He turned Noctis around so they were face to face. “Your death will finally end this war.”

The man hauled Noctis off his feet and dangled him over the edge.

“And once you’re gone, I’ll see that your father joins you.”

“No!” Noctis reached out, grabbing the man’s mask. He wrenched it free just as the Glaive tossed him into the air.

Their eyes met.

Noctis didn’t have time to react. He plummeted off the roof, cold air whistling past him.

Once again, instinct kicked in. Noctis wrenched the dagger out of his shoulder and launched it at the ground. He warped, but in his pain and terror, completely misjudged the landing. He hit the ground hard, bones breaking on impact. Air exploded out of him.

Voices called his name. Gladio and Ignis came running. Noctis tried to speak, but he couldn’t fill his lungs with enough air. He tried so hard, tried to answer Ignis’ questions and Gladio’s demands, but when he opened his mouth, only blood seeped out. He coughed, watching his blood spatter Ignis’ jacket. Pain screamed through his body, broken bones cracking and rattling inside him.

Darkness robbed him of his vision. He tried to speak, but his words came out in useless, fragmented chunks.

“Save your breath,” Ignis said.

“N-no,” Noctis rasped. “Attacked. Kingsglaive.” His breath wheezed in his throat. “He… attacked me.”

“He? Who?” Gladio demanded.

Overwhelmed, Noctis passed out before he could speak the traitor’s name.

* * *

Gladio left Ignis to deal with the paramedics. He summoned the Kingsglaive instead, knowing they were the only ones who would be able to quickly hunt down one of their own. Once the medics were on site, Gladio was gone, running up to the roof of the building Noctis had been thrown from. Once there, he saw signs of the battle. He found Noctis’ dagger, the one he always trained with, and blood. What was Noctis’ and what was his attacker’s, Gladio couldn’t tell.

But while one blood trail disappeared over the edge of the roof to the alleyway, the other didn’t. In fact, it headed south, as though fleeing towards the city’s border.

Gladio suspected the roof on the opposite side of the street would also be marred with blood. But he didn’t have time to run up another building.

A few minutes later, he heard the ambulance pulling away. And in the same moment, a handful of Glaives arrived. They all looked to him for orders. “One of yours just attempted to assassinate the prince,” he said.

Shock travelled through the group. Gladio recognised them, knew they were among the best.

One, Nyx, stepped forwards. “That’s not possible, sir.”

Gladio stared at him. Nyx might be older, but Gladio was taller. “You calling me a liar?”

“No. No, sorry, sir. But there’s no way a Glaive would do this. Not against His Highness.”

“And yet I’m telling you that’s what happened.”

Nyx didn’t reply.

“Noctis knew his attacker,” Gladio said. He pointed at the building to the south of them. “One of you needs to warp over there and tell me if there’s bloodstains.”

“I’ll do it,” Nyx said. He was there and back again in seconds. His pale expression said it all. “Yeah, there’s blood. A lot of blood. It’s still pretty fresh.”

A flash of pride ran through Gladio. Good. Noctis had scored a big hit before he’d gone down. “Track it,” he ordered the Glaives. “If this guy’s on foot and heading south, he’s probably trying to flee the city.”

“That won’t happen,” Nyx said. He looked to the other Glaives, all of whom nodded their agreement.

“Here.” A female Glaive, Crowe, handed Gladio a radio. “This way we can keep in touch.”

“Thanks,” he said.

Crowe nodded. “We’ll find who did this,” she said.

And with that, the Glaives warped away. Gladio retreated to the ground floor of the building and hit the street. He caught sight of the massive bloodstain where Noctis had lain. Heart hardening, Gladio ran. His car was parked on the other side of the park where the marathon had started. With that, he’d be able to keep up with the Glaives and intercept their target. Already the radio filled him in on their general direction.

South.

Towards the border.

Whoever this bastard was, they weren’t getting away.

It was only when Gladio jumped into the car that he remembered he still had Prompto’s backpack. He tossed it on the back seat, promising himself he’d return it as soon as the assassin was either arrested or dead.

Gladio had no preference.

* * *

The paramedics took Noctis to the nearest hospital. Ignis stayed at his side until the doctors pushed him away. Someone eventually realised exactly who they were dealing with and saw Ignis to a private room. He immediately contacted King Regis.

“I’m on my way,” Regis said, his voice strained. “Ignis. Tell me the truth. How bad is it?”

Ignis slumped. “It isn’t good, Your Majesty.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

The call ended. Ignis fell into a seat. He became aware of the blood staining his clothes. Bile burnt his throat, but he didn’t allow himself to throw up. He sat back and closed his eyes, breathing deep. He needed to remain calm and in control. Any kind of emotional breakdown would simply have to wait.

Emotions settling, Ignis glanced at his phone. He hadn’t missed any calls, and despite how much he wanted to call Gladio, he resisted. He thought of Prompto, still running, completely unaware that Noctis had been attacked. Thinking fast, he put in a call to the Crownsguard and asked for someone to pick Prompto up at the finish line. Ignis knew Noctis wouldn’t want his friend to complete his half-marathon and not know why the people who were supposed to be cheering him on weren’t there.

He heard a knock on the door. “Come in.”

A nurse entered. She held a small pile of medical scrubs in her hands and an empty tote bag over one shoulder. “I thought you might need these,” she said.

Ignis took the items. “Thank you.”

“Your friend’s in good hands,” she said.

“Yes, I’m certain that he is.”

“Can I get you anything else? You might be in here for a while.”

“No, thank you, I’m fine. But when King Regis arrives, please ensure he arrives here without any kind of intrusion.”

The nurse’s eyes widened, but she controlled herself and nodded. “Of course.”

She stepped out. Ignis made quick work of changing. He balled his clothes up and dumped them into the bag the nurse had provided. A few moments later, the door opened again and this time King Regis, Clarus Amicitia and two Glaives entered.

Clarus turned to the Glaives. “Guard the door.”

The pair nodded and stepped out.

Ignis stood to greet Regis. “Your Majesty.” He bowed his head. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have –”

“Utter a single word of self-reproach and I’ll have you removed from your post until you can accept your own limitations,” Regis said.

Ignis kept his mouth shut.

“Smart man,” Clarus said. “Tell us what happened.”

Ignis explained as best he could. “I think Noct knew his attacker, but he was unable to identify him before he lost consciousness.”

Regis’ hands squeezed his cane. “To think one of the Kingsglaive would do this.”

“Gladiolus and the Glaives will find who did this,” Clarus said. “We must wait until we hear from them.”

“I want to know how my son is,” Regis said.

Ignis got to his feet. “I’ll find out, Your Majesty.”

He slid out of the room and went in search of the nurse. He found her at the nursing station. She looked up from her paperwork with a knowing smile. “King Regis would like an update,” she said.

“If you could, please,” Ignis said.

She stood up. “I’ll go. Why don’t you find the bathroom?”

Ignis frowned.

The nurse took pity. “Your hands, sir.”

Ignis looked down and saw the bloodstains marring his skin. “Thank you.”

He found a small bathroom at the end of the hall. He stepped in, locked the door, and proceeded to throw up everything he had eaten.

* * *

Gladio’s radio beeped with an incoming communication. “Yeah?”

“You were right.” It was Nyx. “Whoever this guy is, he went for the border. We’ve shut it down, but they’ve got a battle on their hands. This guy’s at the top of his game.”

Bloodlust rose in Gladio. His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “I’m almost there. Do you have an ID on this fucker yet?”

“No,” Nyx said. “Reports say he’s wearing a mask. But if he’s as powerful as they say, he must be pretty high-ranking.”

“How high-ranking?” Gladio demanded.

“I’d rather not speculate further,” Nyx said. “Just get to the border crossing. We’ll need your assistance.”

“I’ll be there.”

The conversation ended. Two minutes later, Gladio hit the border.

And dodged a massive fireball burning through the air. He avoided a crash, but could see the terrible loss of life already inflicted on those guarding the border. Charred bodies were everywhere. Temper flaring just as hot, Gladio threw himself out of the car and ran for the Glaive attempting to escape. He didn’t have a weapon – Noctis hadn’t reached the point yet where he could allow those closest to him access to his Armiger – but Gladio didn’t need a sword to fight this traitor.

The Glaive turned, spotting Gladio. Gladio didn’t care. Let the guy know he was about to pay. His fist slammed into the guy’s face before he could even consider an attack. He crashed to the ground with a familiar cry.

It couldn’t be…

The Glaive tried to stand, but Gladio saw the bloody wound Noctis had given him and sent his boot crashing into it. The Glaive shrieked in agony, doubling over. Gladio pulled his bloodstained foot back and grabbed the guy’s mask.

He couldn’t, no, didn’t want to believe the face he revealed was the person who had attempted to murder Noctis.

“Drautos,” Gladio hissed.

Panting and pale with blood loss, Drautos glared at Gladio. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

Gladio’s fist slammed into his face. “You traitorous bastard!”

Drautos staggered back, spitting blood and teeth. “Traitorous? I’m no traitor! He has to die! Him and his father. Only then will this war finally be over.”

“Lucis would be decimated!” Gladio snarled.

“Exactly,” Drautos said. “No longer will I fight for a King who betrays his people, or for the son he would elevate above all others.”

“You’d hand us over to Niflheim?”

“To end the war, yes. Whatever it takes.”

Gladio hit him again and again, his fist bloodier and bloodier, the bones breaking more with every hit.

“Stop!” Nyx appeared at Gladio’s side. He grabbed Gladio’s fist and held him back. “Don’t kill him. We need to know how far this goes. There could be others working with him.”

Nyx wrenched Gladio away. That was all the distraction Drautos needed. One arm clamped around his injured side, he threw his dagger with the other and warped to the top of the border control gate.

“Idiot! Gladio hissed.

“Leave him to us,” Nyx said, nodding to the gathered Kingsglaive who took off after their former captain. “Get in your car and get to the Prince. He needs you.”

Nyx warped off before Gladio could argue. Teeth clenched, broken hand throbbing, Gladio turned back to the car. He pressed his phone to his ear and called Ignis, giving him an update and finding out which hospital they’d gone to.

* * *

Ignis ended the call and turned to Regis. He took the briefest moment possible to compose himself, to crush the disbelief and dismay threatening to get the better of him. “Your Majesty, Gladio has identified the attacker.”

“Who was it?” Regis demanded.

“Titus Drautos, captain of the Kingsglaive,” Ignis said.

“What?” Clarus hissed.

Regis stared at Ignis, as though waiting for Ignis to correct himself.

“According to Gladio, Drautos intended to assassinate both Noctis and yourself,” Ignis told Regis instead. “He has escaped beyond the city’s borders, but a number of Glaives are in pursuit.”

“Do we know if Drautos indicated whether or not any other Glaives are in his service?” Regis asked, eyes flicking to the door currently guarded by a pair of Glaives.

“Gladio didn’t say so,” Ignis said. He lowered his voice. “But perhaps, for now, we should assume that no one can be trusted.”

“Agreed,” Clarus said. He strode across the room, stepped out, and dismissed the Glaives. They took their orders without question and left. Clarus returned to the room, closed the door, and pulled out his phone. “I’m contacting Cor.”

“Thank you,” Regis said. “Any investigation we undertake will have to be done sensitively.”

Ignis nodded, although how they could maintain _sensitivity_ after the captain of the Glaives revealed himself to be a traitor, Ignis couldn’t be sure. He’d have to trust that the council would come up with a plan.

Clarus ended the call. “Cor will be here as soon as possible,” he said.

“Good,” Regis said. “Inform the council of what has happened. Tell them the matter must remain out of the media at all costs for as long as possible.”

Clarus nodded and made another call.

Regis shook his head. “I can’t believe this,” he said, his deep voice cracked with sorrow and disbelief.

“None of us can,” Ignis said.

Regis fell silent. Ignis was only too happy to follow suit.

* * *

Prompto reached the finish line, logged his time (a personal best, _yes_!), and went to collect his medal and t-shirt. He tried to spot his friends, but there were so many people milling around the Citadel’s courtyard, it wasn’t possible. Happy and proud, Prompto practically floated into the finish line tent. He signed off to confirm he’d finished the race and happily accepted both his medal and his winner’s t-shirt. He accepted a fresh water bottle and a range of high-energy snacks. He chugged the water in seconds and inhaled the food like…

Well, like he’d run a half-marathon.

Grinning to himself, Prompto stepped out of the tent again, hoping he’d be able to find the others. Instead, a woman dressed in uniform stepped up to him. “Prompto Argentum?” She was somewhere in her thirties, petite but with a look in her eye that told him not to mess with her.

Prompto looked at her. “Yes?”

“Come with me, please. I’m from the Crownsguard. My name is Monica. There’s been an incident. Ignis Scientia wanted me to see you to safety.”

Heart plummeting, Prompto followed her. “An incident? What’s happened?”

“We’ll speak in the car,” Monica said, guiding him through the crowd. “And please understand that what I will tell you is strictly confidential and must not be shared with anyone.”

Prompto nodded, too worried to speak.

They found her car, a sleek black model made for speed in the Citadel’s parking lot. Prompto slid in, suddenly aware of the unpleasant stench coming from his body. “Sorry.”

Monica shook her head. She closed her door, started the engine, and pulled away. Only when they were driving on an empty street did she speak. “Prince Noctis was attacked earlier today.”

“Attacked? Is he okay?”

“There hasn’t been an update from the hospital, but I understand it was an attempted assassination. The attacker has escaped thus far.”

Prompto fell back in his chair. “Noct’s gonna be okay, isn’t he?”

Monica didn’t speak.

“Isn’t he?”

“I don’t know.”

The thought of Noctis dying, of some assassin succeeding in killing his best friend, reduced Prompto to tears. Suddenly, the elation of completing the half-marathon meant nothing.

“Have faith,” Monica said. “The Prince is strong. He’ll survive.”

Half an hour later, they arrived at Prompto’s home. Disappointment sat heavily in him. He didn’t want to be left here, alone, not knowing if Noctis was alright.

“You need to take a shower,” she said. “Be as fast as you can. We’ll go to the hospital once you’re ready.”

Nodding, Prompto moved as fast as his stiffening, aching body would allow. He’d carefully planned out his post-marathon rest and cooldown, but that had all been forgotten. He was in and out of his house within ten minutes, smelling better and dressed in sweats to keep his muscles warmer. He slid back into the car and Monica drove them to the hospital.

* * *

Gladio arrived at the hospital. So far, there didn’t appear to be anyone from the press circling. He doubted that would last. If King Regis was here, people would notice eventually. He rarely left the Citadel these days. All it needed was for one bored member of staff to let it slip and then the reports and cameras would descend.

He parked and stepped out of the car, using his left hand as much as he could. He knew his right hand was broken, but there was no way he was getting it tended to yet, not until he knew if Noctis was alright. A quick call to Ignis told him where to go and soon enough he found himself stepping into the small waiting room. Ignis was there, dressed in scrubs. King Regis sat in a chair against the wall, an untouched cup of tea ahead of him. Clarus stood up and greeted his son.

“Drautos?” he asked.

Gladio confirmed it. “He’s injured. Noct didn’t go down without a fight.”

Clarus looked at his son’s swollen hand. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“You’ve trained Noct well,” Regis said.

Gladio dropped to a knee before the King, bowing his head. “I failed in my duty, Your Majesty.”

“Anyone would have,” Regis said. “Even I did not see this betrayal coming. I do not blame you. You couldn’t have known. Insomnia is supposed to be a safe place for us all. You can look out for him, protect him, but there will still be times when it isn’t enough.” He glanced up at Clarus. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“You were a terror in your youth,” Clarus said.

“Indeed,” Regis said. “And Noct can be a handful too.”

Gladio shook his head. “But –” Words failed him when a hand rested upon his head.

“But nothing,” Regis said. “Do not be so quick to take blame onto yourself. There is only one many to blame here, and assuming he is captured, I will deal with him myself for what he has done.”

Gladio could only stare. He’d heard rumours of Regis’ power, but this was the first time he’d ever caught even a glimpse of it.

“Stand,” Regis commanded.

Gladio followed orders.

Someone knocked on the door. “Enter,” Regis called.

A doctor stepped in. Her dreads were restrained in a braid, and she met Regis’ gaze with compassionate brown eyes. “Your Majesty,” she said. “I’m Doctor Ros. Your son made it through surgery and I’m expecting a full recovery.”

Regis stepped forward to shake her hand. “Thank you.”

Doctor Ros nodded. “Of course,” she said. “He’s got a long recovery ahead of him. He’s broken a number of ribs, his right arm and his collarbone was broken by a blade. He’ll be in pain, but he’ll survive.”

“His back is alright?” Regis asked.

Doctor Ros nodded. “No new damage,” she said.

“Thank goodness,” Regis said.

“We’re settling him in a private room. He’s going to be unconscious for a while yet. There’s a number of machines attached to him as well which might all look very frightening but I assure you it’s all quite normal in his situation.”

“When can I see him?” Regis asked.

“I can allow you in once we’ve settled him, Your Majesty, but after that I’m afraid I must ask that you leave him to rest. He won’t be awake anyway. You’ll be welcome to return tomorrow during visiting hours.”

“Alright,” Regis said. “I won’t keep you any longer. Thank you again, Doctor Ros. And thank your team for me.”

“You’re welcome.” And with that, Doctor Ros slipped out.

Relief settled so heavily on the room, no one could speak.

* * *

“Here we are," Monica said, parking the car in the hospital’s underground carpark.

Prompto slid out of the passenger seat, his body sore from the run. He said nothing as he followed Monica to the lifts. Somehow, his aches, pains and weariness seemed like nothing compared to what had happened to Noctis.

The lift took them to the right floor. Ignis was there to greet them. Prompto’s eyes widened at the sight of Ignis’ clothing. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m unharmed,” Ignis said.

Prompto made the connection. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Ignis said. He thanked Monica for her help, and led them both down the corridor. “Noct is doing as well as can be expected,” Ignis said. “His father is with him now, but I’m afraid we won’t be able to see him tonight.”

“Someone really attacked him?” Prompto asked.

“Yes. We’re waiting on an update from the Kingsglaive on the apprehension of the attacker.”

“You know who it is?”

“Yes,” Ignis said. He looked to Prompto. “Forgive us for not seeing you complete your marathon.”

“You really don’t need to be,” Prompto said.

“How did it go?” Ignis asked.

“Pretty good,” Prompto said. “Beat my personal best.”

“Congratulations. You’ll have to tell Noct when he awakens.”

“I will,” Prompto said. “I’ll see him as soon as I’m allowed.”

Monica remained outside as they entered the waiting room. Gladio was there, as was a man Prompto had never met before. Given his style of clothing, Prompto figured the older man was someone pretty high up in the government.

Gladio nodded. “How was the race?”

“Okay, thanks.” He noticed Gladio’s massively swollen right hand. “What happened?”

“Huh? Oh. I had to punch a guy a few times.”

“The one who attacked Noct?” Prompto asked.

“Yeah, that one.”

The older man stepped forwards. “Clarus Amicitia,” he said, hand held out. “You must be Prompto Argentum. I’ve heard quite a lot about you, young man.”

Prompto took the man’s hand, realising he was Gladio’s father, which meant he was King Regis’ Shield, which meant that the King wouldn’t be too far away. “N-nice to meet you,” he said.

“And you,” he said. “But you’ll have to excuse me. I have some calls to make.” He nodded to Gladio and stepped out.

“I’ll be right there,” Gladio said. He looked to Prompto. “Noct’s gonna be mad he missed the end of the race,” he said. “Make sure next year you finish it even faster.”

“I can do that!”

“Good. I’ll catch up with you both later.” Gladio headed out.

“Where’s he going?” Prompto asked Ignis.

“Gladio located the assassin, but he couldn’t quite take him out.”

“Who… who was it?”

Ignis bowed his head. “A man called Titus Drautos. He was the captain of the Kingsglaive. A highly trusted man none believed capable of this.”

“Why? Why would he hurt Noct?”

“He said it was to end the war,” Ignis said. “The other Glaives went after him after he escaped the city. I don’t know if they’ve caught him. I’m afraid I haven’t paid much attention to what’s been happening.”

“You don’t have to!” Prompto said. “Something terrible happened. You’re allowed to not be perfect, Ignis.”

“You’re right, of course,” Ignis said softly.

A knock at the door interrupted them. The nurse stepped in. “Sorry to interrupt, but King Regis asked if you would kindly join him.”

Tapping his glasses up his nose, Ignis nodded. “I’m on my way.” He looked at Prompto. “You can come along as well.”

“What? To meet the _King_?” Prompto’s voice squeaked. “Are plebs like me even allowed to be in the same room as someone like him?”

The nurse giggled.

“Come along,” Ignis said, walking ahead.

Buzzing with nerves, Prompto followed Ignis and the nurse. They went down the brightly lit corridor to a small room at the far end. A man stood guard. He turned to Ignis and nodded. “The King’s waiting,” he said.

“Thank you, Marshall,” Ignis said.

Prompto stared at the guy, in awe of his grim expression and solid stature. He looked so strong, Prompto figured it’d take a tank to move him. The Marshall simply cocked an eyebrow. Blushing brightly, Prompto looked away and hurried after Ignis.

Which meant he stepped into a room that contained King Regis himself. At that moment, the King of Lucis sat alongside a hospital bed where Noctis slept on, oblivious to the needles, tubes and wires attached to him. Prompto couldn’t pull his eyes off his friend. Noctis was always pale, but he and the sheets were just about the same shade of snowy white right now. He even made the bandages and the cast around his arm look tanned.

“Noct,” Prompto whispered. His gut twisted. His friend looked so unwell.

“You must be Prompto.”

The older man’s rich voice startled him. Turning, eyes wide with amazement, Prompto stared at King Regis. “Y-yes, sir. Ah! I mean Your Majesty.” He made a clumsy bow. “N-n-nice t-to meet you.”

“And you,” Regis said. “Noct always talks about you. I’ve always wanted to thank you for being such a good friend to him.”

“He’s a great friend to have!” Prompto said. He glanced at his friend, hating to see him so hurt. Tears gathered in his eyes. “I hate that this has happened to him. If I hadn’t invited him today –”

“His attacker would’ve chosen another opportunity,” Ignis said.

“Indeed,” Regis said. “The man was determined. People like him can rarely be stopped. What’s happened is not your fault.”

Prompto nodded mutely.

“Noct’s going to need a good friend during his recovery,” Regis said. “I trust that I can depend upon you, Prompto, to look after my wayward son?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Absolutely! I won’t let you down!”

“Good lad,” Regis said.

A doctor stepped in. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but your son must rest now.”

Regis stood, pushing himself up with his cane. “Of course, Doctor Ros. Thank you again.” He moved to Noctis’ side and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Rest well, my son. I will return tomorrow.”

They left the room. Monica had joined Cor. Both bowed to Regis. “Your Majesty, your car’s waiting downstairs, but should warn you the press have found out.”

“Alright,” Regis said. “I suppose it was inevitable.”

“Also, there’s been an update from the Kingsglaive.” Cor hesitated, his eyes moving between Ignis and Prompto.

Regis raised a hand. “You may speak.”

“Drautos escaped via a Niflheim drop ship,” Cor said.

Prompto saw Regis’ hand squeezed the top of his cane. “Alright. Thank you for letting me know.”

“I’ll take you back to the Citadel,” Cor said. “Ignis, will you be coming?”

“No,” he said. “Monica and I will ensure Prompto gets home safely.”

Prompto held up his hands. “It’s okay, really! You don’t need to go to so much trouble.”

“Perhaps, Ignis, you’d best spend the night with him. And I’ll have Gladio come by as well,” Regis said.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ignis said.

Prompto knew better than to argue with _the_ King. He laughed nervously. “Good thing I cleaned last night.”

* * *

Awakening came in fits and starts. Moments of blankness disrupted with bright lights and strange noises. Sometimes he thought he heard voices. Other times his head felt too foggy to make sense of anything.

When he awoke properly, he felt something warm around his hand. Blinking, he rolled his head to the side and saw his father seated beside him. He tried to speak, but a sharp pain in his chest stopped him. It hurt just to breathe.

“Hush,” Regis said. “You’re alright. You’re safe.”

The pain didn’t subside. Noctis couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell his dad how awful he felt. He squeezed his eyes shut, burning hot tears pressing against his eyelids.

“The doctor’s on her way,” Regis said, squeezing his hand. “Hold on. It won’t be long.”

Moments later, he heard a door open. Footsteps approached. Noctis looked up and saw a woman approach. She smiled. “Hello there. Good to see you awake. I’m Doctor Ros. I know you’re in pain, so I’ll give you some medicine to help that. It’s going to make you quite tired, but I need you to stay awake while I run a few tests, alright?”

Noctis nodded slightly.

“Alright.” Doctor Ros opened up a small locker on the other side of the room and withdrew a syringe. She plugged it into a small IV port in the back of his hand and injected the contents. Within moments, the pain ebbed away. “Better?” she asked.

“Better,” Noctis whispered.

“Good. Now, this might seem like an odd question, but who is the current King of Lucis?”

A faint smile touched Noctis’ lips. He pointed as best he could at his father. “That guy.”

Doctor Ros laughed. “Alright, you can have that one. And do you know where you are?”

“Hospital,” Noctis said. A cascade of memories crashed over him, reminding him why he was there. He lurched, pain battering him and alarms wailing. “Dad,” he gasped. “Dad, it was Drautos. He – ah!” He fell back, the pain too intense.

“I know,” Regis said. “I know who did this. Rest, Noct. You mustn’t get yourself worked up.”

Worked up? Was Dad kidding? Drautos had tried to kill him! He would’ve gone after Dad too, if…

“Where is he?” Noctis demanded.

“Your Highness, you must calm yourself. Your body doesn’t need this kind of stress. And you don’t want to dislodge that chest tube.”

Noctis ignored her. “Dad, where is he?”

“Gone,” Dad said. “He’s gone. Enough now. Relax. You need to rest.”

Noctis slumped, both relief and the medicine chugging through his veins draining his panic. The bed seemed to rise up to swallow him in cushiony warmth. He closed his eyes, drifting on a tide of sleep.

Doctor Ros’ voice floated over him. “He’s recovering well, Your Majesty. His memory is intact and so far, I see no sign of any kind of brain trauma. Quite impressive, considering he fell off a roof.”

Dad’s response was swallowed as Noctis sunk back into the depths of heavy sleep.

* * *

Four days crept by, during which Prompto unexpectedly played host to Gladio and Ignis. Both were impeccably well-behaved, and Ignis had breakfast ready every time Prompto returned from his morning run. Today was no different, although Prompto also knew that today they had permission to see Noctis. When he came back downstairs after his post-run shower, he saw Gladio on the phone as Ignis sipped an Ebony at the table.

“Yeah. Yeah, alright, I’ll let them know. Thanks, Nyx, And congratulations on the promotion.” Gladio ended the call.

“An update from the Kingsglaive?” Ignis asked, glancing up from the morning paper.

“Yeah. Apparently they’ve been going through Drautos’ stuff and they found a phone connected to Niflheim that he received text messages on. Whoever he was talking to, they were the ones who ordered him to kill Noct. He never once disagreed. He just went right along with their orders.” Gladio punched his right fist, and it’s cast, into his open left palm. “That bastard. I should’ve killed him when I had the chance. The Glaives are pretty sure he’s gone crawling back to the Empire.”

“Then hopefully he’ll never trouble us again,” Ignis said.

“Yeah,” Prompto said. “Good riddance.”

“Don’t tell Noct,” Ignis said. “I spoke with the King yesterday, and he said we’re not to agitate him. He’s in quite a lot of pain now that the doctors are lowering his doses. If he asks, we tell him Drautos is gone.”

“Dead?” Prompto asked.

“No. Let’s stick with gone,” Ignis said.

“Why, in case he ever attacks again?” Gladio asked. “You’d prefer if Noct doesn’t get to turn around and call us all liars?”

“That’s precisely why,” Ignis said. “Now hurry up and eat your breakfast. We need to get to the hospital.”

* * *

The sounds of three familiar voices brought Noctis out of his latest doze. He opened his eyes and found his friends around his bed. There was more room for them now a number of the monitoring machines and the chest tube were all gone. The doctors even promised he’d be able to get up and use the bathroom later if he behaved himself.

Such were the pleasures of life.

“Noct!” Prompto bounced out of his chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Sore. Tired. Uncomfortable. “Sorry I missed the end of the race. How’d it go?”

“Great, thanks! I beat my personal best time and everything.”

Noctis smiled. “That’s great,” he said.

“Nah, what’s great is seeing you awake at last. Although now that you are awake, I should probably warn you that our teachers are currently devising a range of methods for you to catch up on all the work you’ve missed.”

“Thoughtful,” Noctis said. He glanced over at Ignis and Gladio. “You guys alright?”

“Always,” Gladio said.

“Fine, thank you,” Ignis said.

Noctis stared pointedly at Gladio’s right hand. “Break something?” he asked.

“A lot of somethings, actually,” Gladio said. “But you got me beat. Ribs, arm and collarbone.”

“Don’t remind me,” Noctis said. When his ribs healed, he would never, ever take painless breathing for granted again.

“Can I write on your casts?” Prompto asked Noctis and Gladio.

“Sure,” Noctis said.

“Whatever,” Gladio said.

Noctis watched in silence as Prompto worked. It was hard to tell what he was drawing, and Noctis was already struggling to stay awake.

“You can sleep,” Ignis said. “We’ll stay as long as we’re able.”

“Good,” Noctis whispered.

“Yeah, they’ll have to drag us out kicking and screaming,” Prompto said.

“I do not scream,” Gladio said.

“You did that time there was a rat in the subway,” Ignis said.

Noctis fell asleep with a smile.

* * *

Two weeks later, Noctis was allowed out of the hospital under strict orders to rest, recover and avoid stress. His father had him return to the Citadel until he was fully recovered, and Noctis didn’t have the energy to argue.

Or, honestly, the urge. Until they knew who could be trusted, Noctis wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone in his apartment.

Well, not that Ignis, Gladio or Prompto would allow him to be alone. Prompto only left to go to school, although Ignis would take him and bring him back. And Gladio only left for training or if his father summoned him.

Noctis sat in his bed, trying to force his school work into his brain. But his thoughts kept drifting back to Drautos, to his attack on the roof. He couldn’t understand why the man would betray Lucis like that. How could anyone lie about their true intentions for so many years? Because it had become clear to Noctis that Drautos’ betrayal was no sudden decision but an anger that had brewed for years until he’d acted upon it. From what little he’d manage to gather of the others’ conversations, Drautos had been working for Niflheim for years, and had acted under orders to assassinate him. Noctis knew this because neither his father nor his friends realised that just because Noctis had his eyes shut, didn’t mean he was actually asleep.

Which meant he also knew that Drautos was alive, living on in Niflheim.

Noctis threw his school textbook aside. There was no point trying to work.

Drautos was alive, which meant that one day, he might come back to try again.

Leaning back against his pillows, Noctis knew better than to give into fear. Because he was alive. Drautos had failed. Noctis had fought back, and Gladio and the remaining Glaives chased Drautos from the city. If he ever returned, Noctis simply had to be stronger. Faster. Better.

Drautos, if he dared to return to Insomnia, would not escape again. Whatever it took, no matter how many hours he had to put in, Noctis would not allow Drautos to succeed. And if their paths ever crossed again, Noctis would win.

A knock at the door distracted him from his thoughts. “Come in,” he called.

Ignis entered. “Ah, you’re still awake, good. It’s a beautiful day outside. I thought perhaps you might like to take a walk in the gardens. I’ve consulted with the King and he agrees. Some light exercise and fresh air will work wonders.”

Eager to be free of his bedroom, Noctis eased himself over the edge of his bed. Ignis was there, ready to help. With Ignis’ help, Noctis managed to strap himself back into his sling. Together, they took a slow shuffle out of Noctis’ rooms and out to the gardens. The sun felt wonderful on Noctis’ face. He took as deep a breath as his healing lungs and ribs would allow, relishing the sweet scent of blossoms. He walked, slowly, until his body demanded he take a seat. He found a bench and sat on it, Ignis at his side.

“You’re recovering well,” Ignis said. “But you mustn’t push yourself too hard too soon.”

Noctis nodded in agreement. He wasn’t sure he could spare the breath to speak right now.

“Your father wanted me to give you an update,” Ignis said. Noctis stared at him. His friend’s heavy tone set an alarm ringing in the back of his mind. “He and the council have finished their review of the Kingsglaive.”

“And?” Noctis asked, wincing at the wheeze and the nerves in his voice.

“And it would seem Drautos wasn’t alone in his feelings regarding you, your father, and the war.”

Noctis steeled himself. “How many?”

“Do you really need to know?”

“Ignis.”

“Five.”

“Five that admitted to it,” Noctis said, leaning against the back of the bench, struggling to find a position that was comfortable.

“Yes,” Ignis said. “Although one hopes no others harbour such feelings.”

“There’s been no sign of Drautos?”

“He’s gone,” Ignis said.

Noctis couldn’t help but smile. He knew Ignis well enough to know his friend wanted to protect him. Noctis decided he’d humour him for just a bit longer. “Right. And his wannabe followers?”

“Given options,” Ignis said. “They can’t be arrested or punished for the things they think. Not unless they act upon them.”

Noctis nodded. “Okay.”

“You’re not angry?”

“We’re talking about people who’ve lost homes and families to a war we’re not winning,” Noctis said. “My grandfather pulled the Wall back and he sacrificed them. It doesn’t surprise me people would do this.” His own lack of anger startled him. Although it was Ignis who stared at him like he’d lost his mind. Noctis smiled. “Those lessons on diplomacy have sunk in you know.”

“Yes, but you seem perhaps a little too alright with the idea that someone tried to assassinate you.”

The thought of Drautos, however, did spark his rage. “If there’s a next time, I won’t fail again.”

“You didn’t fail this time,” Ignis said.

“I know,” Noctis said. “But next time, they won’t get away.”

“Drautos is gone.”

“I know. But he won’t be the last, will he? There’s gonna be other threats. Why else would Dad insist I train the way I do?” Noctis stared up at the sakura trees. “Sometimes, it’s like he knows something about the future he’s not telling me.”

“It’s your family tradition,” Ignis said. “Every king and queen knew how to fight.”

“Yeah,” Noctis said softly. “Tradition, I know.” But the urgency of it all… well, after Drautos, it all made perfect sense.

Actually, after his body recovered enough from the Marilith, it all made sense. Who would want to be in a position to go through any of that again?

“Noct?”

“Hmm? No, nothing. Just thinking.” He shifted again. The bench really wasn’t what he needed right now.

“We’ll head back when you’re ready,” Ignis said.

“Yeah.”

Five minutes later, Noctis found himself drifting off to sleep. Ignis nudged him, and helped him to his feet. They shuffled back to his room. Staffers bowed, reminding Noctis why he’d wanted the freedom of his own apartment.

His reluctance to be alone was already waning.

Right now though, he needed a nap.

* * *

Two months later, Noctis was ready to return to training. He’d been back at school and his apartment for a few weeks, resumed magic training last week, and now it was time to regain his strength and endurance with weapons training.

Gladio took it easy to begin with. Noctis wanted to push it, wanted to be _better_ and _stronger_ faster, but his body refused.

“It’s gonna take time,” Gladio said, rubbing Noctis’ back as he threw up for the second time that day. “I get that you wanna fight, but you need to be smart about this.”

“Smart’s too slow,” Noctis said, wiping his mouth with a shaky hand.

“Push it too hard, and you’re gonna drop,” Gladio said. “You look ready to pass out as it is.” He pressed a high-energy drink into Noctis’ hands. “Don’t turn it into a curative. Just drink it.”

Noctis sipped carefully, his stomach too unsettled for his liking. “Sorry.”

“I get it,” Gladio said. “After everything that’s happened, I needed to be better too.”

Noctis looked up at him. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“Tch.”

“It’s true. He was a Glaive. He came out of nowhere.”

“I could’ve killed him when I had the chance.”

Noctis laughed. “Gone, right?”

“Yeah, straight back to Niflheim.”

“So we’ll take him out the next time he comes for us.”

Gladio looked at him. “You think you’ve got it in you to kill a man?”

“I tried this time,” Noctis said.

“Yeah, you got him alright. Slowed him down long enough for me to beat the shit out of him.”

“Right. Not like he escaped unharmed.”

“He shouldn’t have escaped at all,” Gladio said.

Noctis handed the half-finished drink back to Gladio. “All the more reason to make sure we win next time.” He grabbed his wooden practice sword and held himself ready for the next fight. “Him, and anyone else like him.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading everyone! 
> 
> If anyone's interested, my headcanon for how this would lead into the game would be Drautos returns when Niflheim comes to sign the treaty...
> 
> Which means Noct never gets to have his vengeance ;_;
> 
> And on that sad note, I'll see you all next Friday :D


End file.
